The spell activated.
The entire arena—no, the entire *void*—turned white.
Not bright white. *Pure* white. The kind that erases color, sound, thought.
For three seconds, nothing existed except that light.
Then it faded.
**[Celestial Dominion: 58 players remaining]**
**[Abyssal Reapers: 130 → 71 players remaining]**
Fifty-nine players. Gone. Just... *gone*.
The holographic kill feed scrolled so fast it was unreadable. Names flashing by faster than anyone could process.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" IronFist shouted, and for once, nobody corrected his language.
The arena floor was scorched. Asteroid fragments were vaporized. Even the cosmic backdrop seemed dimmer, like the spell had consumed the stars themselves.
CelestialFlame stood at the center of her formation, breathing hard. Her mana bar was completely empty. Zero. Her health had dropped to 40%—the spell had cost her *life force* to cast.
But her guild was intact. All fifty-eight survivors, still standing.
Abyssal Reapers' numbers had been cut in half.
"Master-tier sacrifice spell," BlackViper whispered, awe in his voice. "She burned her own health and mana to cast an execution-class AoE. That's... that's insane."
VoidLord reappeared on the opposite side of the arena, his health bar in the red. He'd survived—barely—by Void Stepping at the exact moment of impact.
He looked at CelestialFlame across the battlefield.
And laughed.
"NOT BAD, CELESTIAL! NOT BAD AT ALL!"
Then he charged again.
---
The fight continued for another eight brutal minutes.
Abyssal Reapers refused to surrender despite being outnumbered now. Their necromancers summoned more undead. Their berserkers fought with suicidal aggression. Their assassins picked off isolated targets.
But the momentum had shifted.
Celestial Dominion fought with machine precision, covering each other's weaknesses, rotating cooldowns, executing combination attacks that deleted enemies in seconds.
CelestialFlame herself had recovered enough mana to fight again, and watching her was like watching art.
She didn't just cast spells. She *conducted* them.
A fireball would launch from one mage, and she'd redirect it mid-flight with a gesture, combining it with an ice lance from another mage to create a steam explosion that stunned enemies.
An archer would fire an arrow, and she'd enchant it in mid-air with holy magic, turning it into a seeking missile that never missed.
She fought like someone who'd mastered not just her own abilities, but her entire team's.
When the last Abyssal Reapers player fell—VoidLord himself, going down swinging against three tanks simultaneously—the arena erupted.
**[MATCH RESULT]**
**[Celestial Dominion: 34 survivors]**
**[Abyssal Reapers: 0 survivors]**
The crowd was screaming. Players were throwing virtual confetti. The holographic displays replayed the killing blow over and over.
But what struck me most was this:
Celestial Dominion had won. Against a Top 19 guild that fought like demons. Against chaos itself.
But they'd lost *forty-one players* doing it.
They'd bled.
Gods could bleed.
---
Our group floated in stunned silence for a moment.
"That was..." CrimsonWitch started, then stopped. "I don't even have words."
"Terrifying," SilentStorm supplied.
"Inspiring," DarkEdge countered.
"Both," I said quietly.
My comm pinged.
**[From: CelestialFlame]**
**"Hey, you still here? Want to grab a drink? I need to decompress after that. 😅"**
My heart did the thing again. She wanted to hang out. With me. After that godlike performance.
**[To: CelestialFlame]**
**"Yeah, I'm here. Where?"**
**[From: CelestialFlame]**
**"There's a floating bar called Void's End near the spectator platforms. Meet me there in 10?"**
**[To: CelestialFlame]**
**"On my way."**
I turned to my guild. "I'm gonna... uh... I'll catch up with you guys later."
BlackViper smirked. "Going to see her?"
"It's just... networking. Professional courtesy."
"Sure it is," CrimsonWitch said with a knowing smile.
"Say hi to your girlfriend," IronFist added helpfully.
"She's not—we're not—UGH. I'll see you guys back at the hall."
Their laughter followed me as I flew toward Void's End.
---
The bar was exactly what you'd expect from a cosmic void server—a floating platform with holographic walls showing nebulas and distant galaxies. Soft music played, completely different from the battle sounds earlier. A handful of players sat at tables, decompressing after the match.
CelestialFlame sat at a corner booth, still in her combat gear but with her hood down. Her avatar's face was... well, beautiful wasn't quite right. *Striking* was better. Sharp features, eyes that seemed to see everything, an expression that was equal parts exhausted and satisfied.
She waved me over.
I sat down across from her, suddenly very aware that I was talking to the #1 ranked mage in the entire game.
"Hey," she said, smiling. "Thanks for coming. I needed some normal conversation after that insanity."
"Normal?" I laughed. "You just cast a spell that deleted fifty players and you want *normal?*"
"Exactly. That was work. This is..." She gestured between us. "This is just two players talking. No rankings, no pressure."
A waiter NPC approached. "What can I get you?"
"Void Whiskey," CelestialFlame said. "Double."
"Same," I added.
The NPC left. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
"That spell at the end," I said finally. "Celestial Judgment. I've never seen anything like it."
"Four years of theory crafting," she replied. "It's called a Sacrifice-Class spell. You trade your own resources—mana, health, sometimes even stats—for massive damage output. Most players won't touch them because the cost is too high. But in the right moment..."
"It's devastating."
"It's necessary." She leaned back. "Abyssal Reapers weren't going to lose conventionally. Their chaos doctrine counters standard tactics. So I needed something unconventional."
Our drinks arrived. We clinked glasses.
"To unconventional tactics," she said.
"To bleeding gods," I added.
She raised an eyebrow. "Bleeding gods?"
"You lost forty-one players. I watched you bleed. Made me realize even Top 1 can struggle."
She smiled, but it was sad. "Everyone struggles, Phantom. The difference is whether you win anyway."
We drank in silence.
"Can I ask you something?" I said.
"Shoot."
"How do you do it? Stay #1 for four years? The pressure, the expectations, everyone trying to knock you down?"
She was quiet for a long moment, staring into her glass.
"Honestly? Some days I don't know. The pressure is... it's crushing sometimes. Every match, everyone expects perfection. One mistake, and the forums tear you apart. 'CelestialFlame is washed up.' 'She's not #1 material anymore.' It's exhausting."
I'd never heard her sound like this. Vulnerable. Human.
"But then I remember why I started," she continued. "I was nobody. A casual player who just wanted to explore a cool game. No sponsors, no guild, just me and a basic staff. And I climbed. Every rank, every dungeon, every tournament. Not because I was special, but because I refused to quit."
"That sounds special to me," I said.
She looked up, meeting my eyes. "You remind me of me. Two years to Top 100? No sponsors? That's exactly how I started. You're not following someone else's path—you're making your own."
"Your match today," I said carefully. "It scared me a little."
"Scared you?"
"Made me realize how far I still have to climb. The gap between Top 47 and Top 1 is... massive."
"It's smaller than you think," she said. "The difference between good players and great players isn't talent. It's how you handle pressure. How you adapt when everything goes wrong."
I thought about that.
"Speaking of things going wrong," she said, her tone shifting lighter, "remember the Crimson Abyss?"
My face must have done something because she laughed.
"You're blushing! Or your avatar is trying to!"
"I am NOT blushing!"
"You are! Oh my god, you're actually embarrassed!"
"That was three months ago! Why are we talking about this?!"
She grinned mischievously. "Because it was fun. Twelve hours trapped in a collapsing dungeon with PhantomEdge, the mysterious assassin everyone's talking about. I got to see the real person behind the rank."
"There's nothing mysterious about me."
"You talk to yourself."
I froze. "You... you heard that?"
"The whole twelve hours. You have entire conversations with yourself. It's adorable."
I wanted to die. Log out. Delete my account. Move to a different server. Maybe a different reality.
"Hey," she said gently, and her voice lost the teasing edge. "I liked it. Most top players put on this fake persona—all serious, all professional. You're just... you. No filter. It's refreshing."